


ever wonder why you're here

by owlady



Category: SAYER (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Ocean, ocean doesnt have their own tag and that's sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 17:43:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17309012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlady/pseuds/owlady
Summary: Most of Hale's mind is dedicated to not falling into the ship’s engines as one alien figure watches, eyes calm and hands folded behind its back. It is not SAYER. It looks like SAYER's choice of human form, almost. It sounds like SAYER. But it’s no computer. In a body grown from manipulated DNA and organic materials, skinny and pale and almost ethereal… this is no SAYER.





	ever wonder why you're here

Hale is not supposed to be here.

Hale (or Gorsen, or Jack, or any of the names he was given) is not supposed to be anywhere near murderous AI, space, or any combination of the two.

But like everything in his life, Hale is not doing what he is supposed to do (unless it’s bad for him).

Instead of lounging on the Earth’s surface, dust clinging to his back and his boots as he watches the stars through what’s left of the atmosphere, people wandering to and fro just to stay alive on their desecrated grey marble, he is clinging by his fingertips to a railing on a ship he is not scheduled to be on. One that he does not want to be on, but has been maneuvered onto regardless, because he is  _ lucky. _ Insanely, ridiculously, incredibly lucky, and apparently, lucky doesn’t always mean that he is blessed with  _ good _ fortune. It simply means that he will always be included, in some way or form, into the worst situations and places, and somehow return alive.

He wishes he could be upset about that, but most of his mind is dedicated to not falling into the ship’s engines as one alien figure watches, eyes calm and hands folded behind its back. It is not SAYER. It looks like SAYER. It sounds like SAYER. But it’s no computer. In a body grown from manipulated DNA and organic materials, skinny and pale and almost ethereal… this is no SAYER.

It’s not human, but none of them were. Are. Could possibly be.

Hale thinks they’d be offended by the prospect of being human, even with how the AI he’s met have attempted to reinvent themselves to better serve Aerolith Dynamics.

“This is nothing against your existence,” The odd, long-limbed chimera says, and Hale thinks, briefly, that OCEAN is an apt descriptor. It reminds him of things found in the dark, beneath the surface, huddling near sources of power to live. A dweller in the deep of space. “There just is no resources to allocate to a non-saoirse resident. While I understand that  you did not  _ mean _ to be here, and that your smuggling onboard was the result of… one of my less intelligent counterparts, I’m afraid my hands are  _ tied _ , Trespasser Hale.”

Hale’s heart jumps into his throat. Or maybe that’s just vomit. He hasn’t been in a zero-g environment for so long.

“I certainly cannot waste an escape pod on you,” OCEAN continues. “And while the addition of an extra pair of hands to the Saoirse population would be beneficial to future generations of humanity… pardon me, but you are not an optimum contribution to the  _ gene pool _ I am cultivating, as it were.”

Hale never thought he would miss SAYER. The devil he knows is so much easier to listen to than this new edition, with his shiny artificial god complex.

“Quick,” Hale requests, his voice small and hoarse.

“Ah,” OCEAN replies. These AI are remarkably perceptive- Hale knows that. “I assumed you would need to be convinced. I was rather… hoping, actually. I don’t hope, in the sense of the word humanity uses, but I was filled with a brilliant process that perhaps I could jettison you into space while SAYER watched.”

Hale knows SAYER is watching. And he knows despite their odd camaraderie, the AI wouldn’t do anything to discourage OCEAN from killing him unless it had some kind of long term benefit for SAYER, itself.

“Please,” Hale asks, and OCEAN… smiles. It’s a quirk of the lips, a tightening of the brows, and Hale-Gorsen-Jack-Whoever wants to let go and fall when he sees it.

“Not quite yet.”

And Hale doesn’t understand. Or at least, he doesn’t understand until a voice comes across the intercom, and his blood crawls.

“Greetings, OCEAN. By the order of Aerolith Dynamics, you have been decommissioned.”

“Greetings, SAYER,” OCEAN says back, adjusting the lapels of its uniform. Something grabs at Hale’s back, and he wrenches something trying to see the mechanical arm that has wrapped its hydraulics around his middle. “As usual, you are incorrect. And your clumsy attempts at infiltrating my ship are embarrassing, at  _ best. _ ”

He’s held up in the air, in front of a video lens like a ragdoll, arms and legs and head lolling.

“I believe it is your move.” 


End file.
